Sweet Potato Pie
by Kingslayer-Zombiekiller
Summary: Zombies may ravage the Georgia countryside now, but twenty-five years ago it wasn't so. It was just a boy and his brother, and their misadventures. Dixon brothers as children.
1. Preface

This in an introduction to the following story.

It is based on the early childhood life of Merle and Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead.

It will contain graphic and possibly triggering themes including abuse, neglect, animal cruelty, sexual abuse, and the like. I am putting this warning here now, so that you can be prepared. It will doubtless be handled tastefully as I am not one for senseless dramatics, but it will be gritty.

Read at your own risk.

X Kingslaying Zombiekiller


	2. Ain't No Pussy

I sat there on the ground, covered in mud cuts and bruises, watching in terror as the imposing figure of my big brother held the kitten mercilessly out over the end of the dock.** "Merle stop it!"** I screamed at him, but he only smiled. It wasn't the kitten's fault. I'd found it under the trailer and thought it was nice. I gave it some milk, but that got me beat. Accountin' for my bruises. Then Merle had found it and kicked it and run off into the woods with it, leaving me to struggle to chase after and keep him from killing it. It was just a baby it didn't deserve no death. Not one by the hands of a jerk like my big brother.

We ran through the woods, the cat howling in pain and getting hit hard everytime it clawed at Merle, trying to save its own life. I screamed out, feebly trying to force my ten year old feet to keep up with his sixteen year old ones. I didn't know why I needed the stupid cat to live, but I did. It was something nice. Something that nobody else could touch like they did me. Though even that was wrong, because there was Merle ready to drown my cat and make me watch.

A twisted snarl found my brother's lips as he mocked me, **"Oh Merle, don't hurt the widdle pussy, he's my onwy fwiend."** Merle said snidely, laughing at me and teasing by letting the terrified kitten fall, but catching it last second. **"I swear you're as bad a s a girl!"** he spat, **"Darlina the girl. Darlina Darlina!"** He teased me.

My hands curled up into fists as I bit into my lip to qwell my rage. I wanted to stomp him so hard, but I knew if I tried he'd beat me good. Still, the pitiful mewing of the cat spurred me on to some kind of stupidity. I got to my feet, and bowed up at my brother. **"GIVE IT BACK NOW! IT AIN'T YOURS!"** My voice seemed to scare even me, I hadn't ever yelled at him that way before.

The anger on Merle's face seemed to show his indignation as he tossed the cat into the water haphazardly, and it mewed and cried, and somehow managed to swim enough to dizzily make it to the dock's posts, and cling to that howling. The cat was the least of my concerns now though, it was the angry brother of mine who was a good two foot taller stomping my way. I wanted to run, but I stood defiantly, thinking I'd already been beat once today, once more wouldn't hurt. I was wrong. It hurt a_ lot_.

The fist had come from nowhere, one hitting my eye, the next my gut and a barrage of them came until I was laying on the dock in the fetal position. I never once asked him to stop though. I wasn't no pussy. Nobody would ever call me that, I decided. It must have been enough because Merle finally stopped and spit down on me in disgust, stomping away threatening to shoot the cat if I brought it back home.

For awhile I just laid there, trying not to cry, but I did. It was okay though, nobody saw. It was only the pitiful mews of the trapped kitten that pulled me out of it and I sat up, wiping at the blood trickling out of my nose and wincing at the pain under my eye. I'd have a black eye before supper. I was used to them, I could spot one a mile away.

With a grunt and a hobble I got up, edging towards the end of the dock where I laid down on my stomach and reached down for the kitten. I pried its claws off the wooden posts and pulled it to my lap, wrapping it up in my shirt because of how wet it was. **"You're really stupid, cat,"** I told it bitterly, my anger for what I'd gone through coming out at the kitten. **"You should have bit him. You should have gone up under somebody else's house!"** Before I knew it I was screaming at the poor thing, and shaking it violently.

It wasn't the cat's fault. It was mine. I was the one who had been so stupid. Nobody ever cared about me, so why should I bother to care about this stupid furry pussy. That's when it hit me, it was nothing more than a pussy. A helpless reflection of myself, and my tears returned with anger. Before I knew what I was doing, there was a defined snap, and the body that clung to me so desperately went limp. **"I AIN'T NO PUSSY!"** I screamed at its lifeless form, though it took only a few moments for my anger to subside and the regret to kick in.

What had I done? **"No..."** I whispered pitifully, lifting it's dangling head up to try and undo the damage I'd done. **"No. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Please..."** the whimpered words were ones I'd said before, usually before my own beatings, or the late night visits from my daddy and his belts, but now they seemed even more in vain. I'd killed it. I'd killed something innocent and helpless just to feel less helpless myself. I felt sick. Scrabbling backwards I kicked at the dead body, watching it fall into the water and float there for a few moments before slowly sinking part way.

The sickness over took me and I barely made it to the edge of the water before emptying my stomach there with gagging coughs. I had never regretted anything more. I knew it would have died anyways. Merle would have shot at it with his bb gun, or put it in a box with a snake, but that was Merle. That had never been me. I was Daryl, and I was never going to be like my big brother.

Not ever.

Once I stopped throwing up and shaking, I wiped at my face, tears smearing mud and grime worse than before, and I found a stick to pull the half submerged body of the kitten back to the dock. I fished it out and with whimpers that would have earned me even more beatings, I carried it near a tree and dug a little hole. A grave. I set the lifeless body inside and began to cover it, finding tears streamed down my face silently. It needed something more, I thought. A way to really show how sorry I was.

I glanced around and caught a glimpse of a flower in some brush a few yards away. Going for it, I stopped and stared at it. It was broad, four or five soft white petals and a dusty golden center. I didn't know what kind of flower it was, but it was pretty. I imagined it was good enough to be like the people I sometimes saw at funerals and grave yards. Tearing one of the blossoms away, I walked back to the tiny grave and set the flower on top.

**"I'm sorry,"** I whispered quietly, before I stood up and wiped my hands on my shirt leaving streaks of blood. I didn't remember when I'd gotten cut, but the horror set in deeply. If Ithis blood stained I'd get beat for that too. For a moment I considered just not going home, but a look down at that little grave with the white flower on top, and I decided if I got beat, I deserved it.

I then turned around and began to walk home.


	3. Product of My Raising

My feet felt like cement as I dragged myself back home, and it wasn't long before I could see the trailer up ahead and hear the usual shouting of my parents. I felt my stomach knotting up and threaten to wretch up whatever food might be left inside again, but somehow I kept it down. I paused a few yards away, staring at the only home I knew with a frown when suddenly a cracking twig behind me caused me to whip around with wide, terrified eyes.

It was Merle. Glaring down at me, Merle looked around, probably looking for the cat. **"Where's the pussy?" **he questioned me with a raised eyebrow, and my eyes darted to the ground as I shrugged. I didn't want him knowing what I'd done. He'd praise it. It didn't deserve no praise.

"**It run off," **I lied, forcing myself to meet his gaze so he wouldn't know I was lying.

"**Good. Stupid ass cat ain't got no use anyways," **Merle said gruffly, noticing all the blood on my shirt and frowning. He said nothing of it, though. I sighed in relief. **"I'm takin' Danielle out to the woods tonight. You best not follow us again." **he commented casually, and I cringed.

The last time he'd had his girlfriend 'over' they'd snuck off into the woods and I'd followed. I watched them having sex out there in some old abandoned barn but they caught me and Merle hit me with a rope until I cried. I didn't want that to happen again so I nodded sheepishly, looking at the ground.

"**You best not tell nobody neither," **he spat.

"**I won't." **I replied quietly.

"**Good." **Merle said with a nod, walking towards me and reaching out. I flinched at his hand and he laughed, grabbing my head under his arm and rubbing his knuckle into the top of my head roughly despite my yelling and struggling against the noogy. Laughing as I turned red, he finally let go and grinned at me. **"You gotta work on that swing of yours, Darlina," **he said, though it was his fond voice. That one he used that let me know he actually liked me kind of.

I glared at him, but ended up smiling a little bit myself, that was until I heard the door to the trailer open and my dad's angry voice calling for us. He sounded drunk. I paled and Merle scowled, grabbing my shoulder and walking us to the trailer.

"**Where the fuck you two been? You got any idea what time it is? You cunt-fucks?" **Our father's voice cut like razors and I stared at the ground.

"**We been out like you told us to be, jackass," **Merle growled at out father, who he might hate even more than I did.

Our dad glared at Merle for a few moments as if he was trying to decide whether or not to hit him, but he must have decided to not because then I felt his white hot gaze on me. I tried to shift behind Merle but he kept me there. He always told me I had to stand up to dad, but I wasn't as bold as Merle was. Not as big neither.

"**And what the fuck happened to you?" **my father spat, reaching out to jerk my chin up and glare at me like he hated me more than anything**. "The fuck did you get on your shirt? You know we can't afford no more clothes. I oughta whip you so bloody the whole damn thing turns red."** He snarled lashing out and striking me in the gut. I grunted and whimpered, doubling over holding my arms to my stomach.

Merle stepped up then getting between us and shoving our dad back. **"Ain't his fault. I hit him." **Merle lied in my defense. Well, lied about him drawing the blood. He did hit me, but Merle hitting me was always better than dad hitting me.

"**You want some too boy?" **Our father hissed, grabbing Merle's shirt and jerking him towards him. **"Maybe you want your brother's share of it too, huh, boy?" **He growled his face right up in Merle's. I watched with widened blue eyes stricken with horror. This happened a lot, Merle stepping up to take my share of the beatings, but I never got used to seeing it.

"**Make you more of a man if ya beat someone who wasn't a kid," **Merle snapped back arrogantly, **"gotta do something though dontcha Cletus? Ever since momma done took your balls you can't do nothing but beat your kin to feel like a man." **

I gasped, it always seemed an offense when Merle called our daddy by his actual name, and then to bring up mamma like that… I wanted to run but I was frozen there. Merle was doing this for me, I could at least stand here and watch like a man. Merle always wanted me to be more of a man anyways.

That was the breaking point. Merle was thrown to the ground by our father who then pressed his booted foot into Merle's chest and ground it in roughly. I swear I saw tears in Merle's eyes but I'd never say so to his face. The kick came swiftly and Merle grunted, but didn't cry out. He'd never give that satisfaction. Sometimes I wonder what it was like for Merle before I was born and when I was just a baby but I was too scared of the answer to ask.

Four more kicks came, and then daddy stumbled away, his drunkenness overtaking him as he muttered about his bastard pussy ass daughters and then collapsed in the dirt, like usual. Momma peeked out of the trailer meekly and with blackened eyes, looking at us nervously and with a pained expression but she didn't dare try to help us. She gave me a sad nod that I usually knew to mean she had some supper for us hidden in our room, and that's when I bent down to crouch by my big brother.

"**Merle…?" **I asked, reaching out for him tentatively.

The older boy jerked from my touch with a sneer. He was obviously in a lot of pain and it made my stomach start wrenching again and I felt like crying. I didn't though. He'd be mad if I cried. **"Get away from me," **he grunted rolling over on his side and coughing. I saw some blood come up when he did but I didn't say anything more.

Instead I got up and looked from the trailer to the prone form of my father passed out in the dirt a few feet away. A scowl took my features as my fists balled up and I marched over to him. I breathed deeply my chest heaving with every angry breath, and then I started kicking. I didn't know how many my tiny feet got in before I felt my mother's arms around me jerking me back and hissing at me.

She was scared. She always got it the worst and I knew she might get it taken out on her for what I did, but I wasn't sorry. It wasn't right what he did. He deserved to be kicked. He deserved a lot worse than that too. I hated him.

My mother looked on the verge of tears when I looked at her, but I was in no mood to be her little boy right now. **"Go away you stupid bitch!"** I shouted at her, running past her into the trailer with tears in my eyes again. I regretted saying that to her already, because she wasn't bad as daddy, but she wasn't that good either. She never stopped him. Never tried to. She never left or helped us.

I hated her too.


	4. Cherokee Rose

Merle fell asleep early, I think it was because he was hurt. He didn't say nothing to me though. I locked our bedroom door and pushed a chair under the handle so nobody could get in. Not tonight. Like usual I found a plate of food under my bed, momma usually hid some because daddy got mad if we weren't home right when it was done and told her to give it to the dogs instead. She always saved some for us though. As I ate it I felt even more guilt for having yelled at her like I did. I poked at the dried bits of hotdog cut into beans on my plate and glanced over to Merle where he slept with his back to me. I wanted to see if he was okay.

Noticing his empty plate near his bed I slid off mine and crept over to him, and tapped him gently on the shoulder. **"Merle?"** I whispered, **"Are you awake?" **

At first all I heard was an irritated grunt, but then a sigh and Merle rolled over to look at me. He had ugly bruises on his face and I could see them peeling out from under his collar too. **"Whatd'ya want, Daryl?"**

He asked in a hiss. We both knew to be quiet so we didn't wake up our parents.

Holding out my plate to him, I nodded at it.** "I thought you might be hungry." **I replied, unable to keep my eyes from his bruising which made Merle pull the blankets up to cover himself more as he frowned at my plate.

"**You need to eat." **He muttered in a gruff reply, but I could see in his eyes he was hungry still.

"**I'm not hungry." **I insisted pushing the plate at him until he finally took it and sat up, watching me carefully to be sure it wasn't a trick. He started shoveling the slop into his mouth, not saying another word about it.

I stood there in front of him in silence while he ate, happy I could do at least something nice for him considering what he'd done for me with daddy. What he'd done one more time. Sometimes I wondered why he took my beatings from our father then beat me himself, but Merle's were always kinder if that was possible.

Once he shoveled the last bit into his mouth he seemed to notice my staring and glared at me. **"What're you lookin' at**?" He growled, bits of food falling out of his mouth as he asked. I shook my head and backed away to my bed which I crawled up into and felt down between my bed and the wall for the ratted out old teddy bear I'd found in the dump. Daddy'd burn it if he ever saw it, and Merle had already torn off one of its arms but even now he only stared at it uneasily before pretending not to have seen it.

We sat there in silence like that for a few minutes before Merle drug himself out of the bed and went to the closet where he dug out something square and wrapped up in newspaper. He threw it at me and I grunted as it hit me in the gut. It was heavy. Merle returned to his bed pulling his bowie knife off the floor and paying more interest to it than me and whatever he'd just given me.

I stared at him confused then down at the makeshift gift. **"What is it?" **I asked, afraid of touching it more than I was.

"**It's your birthday," **Merle said with a snort of spit that he spit onto the floor. I grimaced but didn't say anything. How did he know it was my birthday? I never had a party or nothin' the kids at school never asked. I just assumed every summer was when I got a little bit older. Merle must know when it actually was. And he had gotten me a present. I looked down at it in bewilderment. This was my first birthday present ever. I would have said more but Merle would have gotten annoyed at me.

Setting aside my teddy I began to pull away at the news paper wrapping eagerly, my now eleven-year-old fingers trembling with anticipation. When I got it all off I was holding a book that was as big as my chest. I stared at it in awe. On the front was a large painted blossom. The same one I'd put on that cat's grave. It made my stomach churn a little, but I ran my hand over it because it was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen.

Four broad white petals and a soft yellow center. It made me smile gently.

"**I figure you can't do much else but at least you can read. I stole it off the library, some kid told me it has a bunch of old stories and Indian legends in it," **Merle said with great disinterest, making a point not to look at me.

I smiled, cracking it open my eyes darting all around the pages. Merle had dropped out of school years ago but I liked it. It was the only place I got to be away from my family. I had learned how to read there too. Most stuff, anyway. To me this was not only my first ever present, but the best present.

Setting the book to one side I got off my bed and nervously moved to Merle's. He might hit me, but I didn't care. Quickly I threw my arms out around him and took him into a quick tight hug, my eyes closed tightly. I expected he'd hit me, but he didn't. He just grunted and shoved me off, complaining about his bruises.

I didn't want to be like my brother, or my daddy, but the difference was I loved my brother. I hated my daddy. I wore a little grin as I backed away from Merle, grinning at the face that I thought I saw a little smile on his lips too.

"**I'm gonna read you one," **I declared as I crawled back into my bed, getting under the covers and cracking it open to a random page. It was that same flower. It seemed to be following me everywhere. **"The Legend of the Cherokee Rose**," I read off slowly, sounding out my words slowly and quietly.

Merle pretended to be disinterested but I know he was listening. I was almost done with the story when we heard a bang. Both our heads jerked up and then our door shuddered. I tensed, and Merle swung off his bed, the knife grasped tightly in his hand. The banging turned into angry shouts and the door shuddering as our daddy tried to break it down. I closed the book looking around in a panic for somewhere to hide it because I knew our father would tear it up if he saw it.

Merle saw the panic in my eyes and looked at me almost sadly. **"Come on," **He said, moving to the tiny window in our room and giving it a hard kick until it popped out. **"We're gonna go camping," **he said, grabbing a pair of boots and hopping out the window.

I sat frozen for a few minutes until I heard the door begin to creak and crack, and in a fit of fear and panic I grabbed my book and tumbled out of bed, and then out the window. I didn't get no shoes or anything else, and I could already see the shadowy figure of my older bother vanishing into the woods ahead, but I didn't stop running after him even when I cut my feet on glass and rocks.

Any of that would be better than one more night time visit from our father.


	5. The Cheese Stands Alone

**A/N: I hope anyone reading this realizes the racial epithets are not of my own doing, but part of the theme and characters as presented to us on TWD. Please don't flame me for them unless you plan to write hate mail to the writers of TWD too. **

* * *

"**MERLE!" **My trembling voice echoed out into the pitch blackness of the woods that surrounded our tiny little trailer home. **"MERLE!" **I called again. I knew these woods. I knew them by day time anyways and I wasn't never one to get scared of the dark, but the howling of coyotes off in the distance paired with the pounding ache of my bleeding feet made it a little harder to be so brave.

I had my book clutched to my chest for dear life still, and in all my stumbling I finally came to the little pond from yesterday. I knew that cat's grave was nearby but I didn't look for it. I was frozen now actually because I saw two shadows ahead.

Those shadows were people and neither one was my brother. Ducking behind a tree I watched cautiously doing all I could to keep quiet but my breathing was so loud I just knew they'd hear me. They were talking about something heatedly out on that dock, but I couldn't make out any of the words.

Just when I thought I was safe, the hand landed on my shoulder from behind and I let out a yelp. I was quickly silenced though by a hand pressing over my mouth. I was turned slowly and found myself face to face with my bigger brother. He let go of my shoulder and put a finger to his lips nodding until I nodded back and then he uncovered my mouth too.

If the two men had heard me I couldn't tell because they were still talking to each other even now. Merle watched them with digust for a few moments and then grabbed me to shove me forwards, walking away from the men. I stumbled and stepped carefully but my feet still hurt. When I craned m y head back to look at the men, some moonlight caught on them and I saw why Merle looked so disgusted. They were blacks. I didn't know many blacks Merle and daddy always made sure I knew they were less than me. Less than dogs even. They said I wasn't even supposed to talk to one. I really didn't know what I thought.

Merle led me over to a pile of brush behind a big fallen tree and shoved me over it. "**Stay here." **He commanded, and I did.

I peeked over the edge of the log and watched as Merle with his knife in hand stalked back towards that dock. I knew something bad was about to happen. Something real bad.

It seemed like flash before my eyes, him going out on the dock, holding up his knife and calling them dirty niggers. They started shouting at each other until one of them made a move at Merle and the fight began. I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming out at them, but I knew I was safer with nobody knowing I was here.

Something changed though when I saw the glint of Merle's blade catch in the dim moonlight as it plunged into one of the men, and then the other one did it. He hit Merle hard with some kind of stick. Merle fell down, laying there motionless on the dock, and I lurched forward. I wanted to go kick them and hit them for hurting my brother, but something held me back.

The man who had hit Merle bent down with something in his hand. A gun. My eyes widened and that's when I made out what kind of hat he was wearing. He was some kinda police man. I knew then that there was no hope for Merle. He'd go back to juvie like before and I'd be stuck with my daddy all alone.

I turned my back to the log and hung my head between my knees, trying not to get sick again but it was a bad feeling. I knew things were gonna be bad. Real bad.

The two men cuffed Merle and hauled him out of the woods together, and whatever that cop and the other man were doing out here in the woods so late at night I'd never find out, but Merle sure as hell deserved something more fair to my mind.

Morning light came with heavy mist, and I woke up with a start, lurching forward from where I'd slept in the fetal position behind that same log Merle left me in. I knew I had better get home and face my beating now while daddy was still hungover and not when he got drunk again. So gathering up my book and inspecting my blood crusted and cut up feet, I walked back home, wincing with every step. It was a lucky thing I knew where I was because of that lake, because without Merle I sometimes got lost out here.

The trailer came into view, and with it cop cars. I rounded the trailer so nobody would see me and question where I was, sneaking inside while momma and daddy stood out back screaming at the officers. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried as I scrubbed my feet off, making them bleed fresh all over again. Wrapping them in toilet paper so I didn't get blood on the floors I went to my room and shoved my book under my mattress, and then found some socks to put on my feet and shoved them inside boots. It hurt real bad, but it was better than anyone being suspicious of me.

I then crept sheepishly out of the trailer to where cops were, looking around like I had no idea what was going on. I saw Merle in the back of one of the cars looking ready to murder the whole world. He snapped his gaze up glaring at me, and gave me a nod. I had no idea what it meant, but I hoped it was a good thing.

The cops asked a bunch of questions form my parents and none from me, but it all ended with them saying Merle was going to be in juvie until we posted some bail or a court decided to release him. My momma cried and my daddy cussed a lot, telling them to keep the ugly bastard forever for all he cared.

Once the cops left, was when it all really fell apart.

Daddy started hitting momma like it was her fault, and I could only watch in horror. He did it right there outside and everything while the cops drove off. Not even the policemen seemed to notice though.

"**You stupid bitch," **he growled, hitting her over and over even when she fell to the ground. **"Your dumb bastards keep getting my reputation soiled I'll kill em myself!" **he said again. After he was done hitting her and she laid on the ground shaking, he smashed inside the trailer coming back out with his keys and a six pack of beer, and that blonde waitress girl I saw him with sometimes. The one momma pretended not to know existed when she was in their bedroom with daddy making all kinds of noises.'

She looked nervous, and was half dressed herself but when my daddy ordered her to come on, she tore her terrified eyes off my beaten mother and me standing there, practically invisible, and the two got into the car and in a cloud of dust, they were gone.

I wondered how long he'd be gone this time. I hoped he never came back, really. Looking down at my momma I wondered if I should help her, but as soon as I reached down, she turned around to lash out at me, striking me across the cheek. I recoiled pressing a hand to my stinging cheek and looked at her in horror.

"**Stay away from me!" **She seethed, her voice trembling**. "You're just like him. Both of you." **She sounded so afraid of me. I didn't understand. If it was because I called her a bitch I was sorry about that. I really was.

I guess momma had finally had enough then because later that day her Aunt Lauren showed up and took momma away with several of her suitcases. I was left there alone. No brother. No momma. No daddy.

My daddy was gone off on a bender with some dumb waitress, Merle was having his fourth stint in juvie, and my momma was long gone now.

And I, Daryl, was standing there alone hungry, scared, lonely and abandoned. I was so upset that as night began to fall, I just started walking, unable to stand the sight of that stupid trailer any longer. I walked and kicked, and kept going, ducking and weaving past trees and brush, going in a direction I had never been into the woods before. I was crying now, and I was not ashamed. My feet hurt so bad that I thought they might fall off or something and when I finally collapsed from the pain, and laid there on the dirty ground wiping away tears that I was so angry at myself for crying, I came to a slow realization.

Sitting up and sniffling I pawed at my face one last time before the density of the darkness all around me settled in. How long had I been walking? Which way had I come from?

I couldn't remember.

Not only was I alone now, I was also lost.

* * *

**A/N: This leads into the itchy ass lost in the woods story Daryl mentioned in TWD ep 2.03 x**


	6. Lost in Woods pt 1

_I can hear the sound of their yapping from all around me and I'm not sure which way to go. I'm panicked. I've lost my shirt and my book, my slippers now. All I have is what's on me and the squished up berries I kept in my pants pocket. My heart is racing so much I am afraid it's gonna make them coyotes hear me. I wished real bad I had a gun right now. I wouldn't feel bad shooting a coyote. Not ever. The yapping drew closer, dozens of individual yips that belonged to the hungry pack. I start running, and I fall, scraping my arm up good on some old log and leaving a trickle of blood to drip down it as I push back up and run some more._

_I can see it up ahead, the only tree nearby with branches low enough for me to climb. I leap up at the lowest one, clasping my hands around it and tucking my feet up just as the pack breaks into the clearing all around me. I scurry my way on top of the branch, panting and gasping for air, and look down at the pack of wild dogs nervously. After a moment my panic subsides and I smirk. I've also got rocks in my pocket. A deft hand slips inside and closes around a stone and one by one I start beaming them in the heads until they all run off leaving me alone. _

_Because Daryl Dixon is a survivor, and he ain't no pussy._

* * *

The first night is the hardest. Mostly because I am scared. It's cold and dark that night, colder than you'd expect for Georgia, but by the second night I'm okay. I find some berries and some nuts and they taste okay. They don't go very far but I am pretty sure the berries aren't the poisonous kinds. Hopefully. Nobody ever showed me the difference before, so I just decide to go with my gut. I ain't died yet so I figure I'll be okay.

I don't see how I got so lost I don't feel like I walked that long but every time I try to guess which way home is, I end up finding nothing but trees. In my head sometimes I like to pretend like I'm one of them kids who gets lost and everybody is sad. I get to be on the news or have my face on milk cartons like you see on the TV.

But it ain't like that. Ain't nobody looking for me. I bet nobody even knows I'm gone. Who would? Momma left, and daddy's probably in New Orleans again with his waitress bitch. Yeah. I think she's a bitch. More than momma. I still wish I hadn't called momma that. I tell myself maybe if I hadn't she would have stayed. Maybe she'd have taken me with her. I think maybe she didn't love me anymore.

By the fourth day I've found a little stream that has strawberries and honeysuckles growing by it and it's where I stay mostly. I stay there because I like to sit naked in the stream. I don't know why my ass itches so bad but the cold water sometimes makes it feel a little better. It always itches though. I wondered if it might be something I ate.

I stay at that stream for two days before I decide it's too cold to keep here, and so I leave behind my shirt which I had turned into a blanket and is now too caked in mud to use and I move on. My book is my only companion but even it's getting heavy for me.

One day I really thought about just living out here permanently but something told me that would be giving up and only a pussy would give up. I could hear my brother whispering in my ear every time I laid down and felt sorry for myself. I should probably tell my brother thank you someday I think he might be the only thing that kept me alive.

It was the night after that day that things really got scary. I had been trying to crack some nuts by a stream when I hard the yaps. I knew it was coyotes by the sound of it. I'd heard them a hundred times before. They were real close and I scurried up a tree next to be but by the time I realized I had left my book on the ground it was too late. They were there, getting water and snapping at each other. One of em found my book and began nudging it with it's muzzle and I bit back a cry of agitation.

Then the unthinkable happened. Another one of them saw the book too and they started fighting over it, and before I knew it my book was being torn apart and tossed into the water, pages ripping and getting soaked. I screamed, and it seemed to startle them. So I jumped down out of the tree and started screaming more. They ran off instinctually but only for a moment. Then they came back with a vengeance. Hair raised, teeth bared. I was in for. Reaching down I scooped up a handful of rocks that I shoved in my pocket, and I ran.


	7. Lost in Woods pt 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in update, and sorry this chapter sucks. I have plans for the next few though... they should be good :)_  
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_It had been nine days before I found myself in familiar territory. Before I saw the trailer up ahead in a clearing and felt my feet pushing me forward somehow, despite the aching pain in my empty stomach or the dull throb of my cut and torn feet. It felt like I was one of them moths that came to the light on the trailer at night. I was just drawn to it. I found the steps, and then the door, and pushed inside. Nobody was home, not that I expected they would be. Nobody had missed me at all. I bet nobody even knew I had been missing. I didn't really care that much as I shuffled straight to the kitchen, dirty ragged and hurt. I found some bologna in the fridge and some old stale bread on the counter but when I put it together it was the best thing I could ever remember eatin' in my whole life._

_I finished my sandwich and that's when it hit me. How alone I was. The emptiness of the trailer seemed to fold in on me like darkness. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I hated my daddy and my brother and I hated my momma too, but I didn't wanna be alone. I didn't want this._

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**Three Days Before…**

It took me hours to shake the wolves, completely but I figured out if I stayed away from their turf they left me alone. Mostly. Enough that I didn't have to worry about 'em that much. They might've been better than the snakes I found next or the hunger. I stopped being able to find myself berries and then I started eating leaves and worms. I figured it was better than dyin' or starving' to death. Besides, part of me knew Merle would be proud. He'd probably think I was being a man. A real man.

A real man wouldn't cry, but sometimes I still did. Especially at night when I was cold or hungry. I was glad nobody could see. I was also glad that even though I was cold and hungry I knew nobody was gonna be comin' in my room. Nobody was gonna be touchin' me like always happened at home. I was lost but I was safe. Maybe it didn't make no sense but somehow I felt safer here than I did at home. Well, mostly.

I thought the wolves had been the worst of the dangers but ain't nothing that smarts like about twenty five bee stings. I heard once you had to get the singers out, Merle told me that, so I sat there picking them out with tears on my cheeks, but nobody saw that either. I didn't think I was ever gonna find my way home, and once I thought maybe if I just sat still maybe someone would come find me, but after half a day I realized what I shoulda known all along. Weren't nobody lookin' for me. Ain't nobody who cared.

I had started sleeping in this old hollowed out tree at night, thinkin' that maybe I could just start livin out here if I just had some kind of weapon to hunt my food with. I had my tree and I could get some clothes if I stole 'em off somebody's house. If I could ever find somebody's house. I had all these plans in my head, but that's when things started to look familiar. I recognized some trees, and some old stumps Merle had burned some mice alive on. I shuddered at the memory but continued forward. I was more tired than I knew, and my feet carried me faster than my mind could tell them too, but home was near. I could sense it.

I wondered how long I had been gone, and I counted on my fingers, trying to remember by the nights because I remembered those the best. Nine, I thought to myself. It had been nine days,


End file.
